


Hold the Onions

by geekkitty (braezenkitty)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Date, Charlie Ships It, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braezenkitty/pseuds/geekkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam sets Dean up on a blind date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold the Onions

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever published fic! Please be kind :) and enjoy the fluff!

“What? No. Absolutely not.” Dean stood up from the bunker’s war table and walked to the kitchen, in desperate need of alcohol.

“Come on, Dean.” Sam followed, not about to let his brother blow him off. “You haven’t gone—”

“Not gonna happen, Sammy.” Dean interrupted, then slammed the refrigerator door closed for emphasis. He popped the top off his beer and took a long swig.

“Dean, trust me. I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think you’d enjoy yourself.” Sam gave Dean his best puppy dog eyes. Dean rolled his eyes in response and took another swig of his beer.

“Come on, it’s already set up. Are you really gonna be the guy who stands his date up?”

“Oh my god Sammy, I hate you.” Dean flopped his head back in exasperation. The last thing he needed right now was a damn blind date. He had just gotten the freakin’ Mark of Cain off his arm, and he was still trying to come to terms with that. Not to mention the fact that his best friend had given up his angelic grace and become human to save him. His head was just not in the right place to be dating.

“So does that mean you’ll go?” If Sam were a dog, his ears would have been standing at attention and his tail wagging violently. He looked like he was expecting someone to toss him a beggin’ strip.

“Fine.” Dean sighed and slid his free hand through his hair. “If you’ll shut up about my love life, or lack thereof, I’ll go.” He couldn't believe he was going to do this, but he never could resist Sam’s sad puppy bit. “It would be a tragedy to deprive this girl of a date with a gorgeous guy like me anyway,” he smirked. Dean was a gentleman... most of the time. And the thought of some poor girl sitting by herself waiting on him didn't sit right.

“Right...” Sam smirked back, “you got one hour, better go get cleaned up you scruffy-looking Nerf herder.”

“Who’s scruffy look—wait, did you say one hour?”

“Yep,” Sam laughed, “I did. Now go get a shower, and change into some clean clothes. You've been wearing the same thing going on three days now, and you’re starting to smell pretty ripe.” Sam turned to leave the kitchen, laughing as he walked into the hallway.

“Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball! Did I mention that I hate you?” Dean called after him. Sighing, he took another swig of his beer, then sniffed under his arm. He pulled a face and chugged the rest of the beer, then headed toward the bathroom.

+

Freshly showered and changed, Dean pulled into the parking lot of the Bar & Grill down the road from the bunker. He sat for a moment after shutting off the ignition, gathering himself. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't nervous. He was Dean 'badass-monster-killer-ladies-man' Winchester. He had no reason to be nervous. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to release the steering wheel from his sweaty grip.

“Here’s where the fun begins,” he mumbled, stepping out of the Impala and heading for the bar. When he pulled open the door, a cacophony of sounds greeted him. The cheesy piano chords and over-dramatic lyrics of ‘Right Here Waiting’ was playing on the jukebox. Lovely. Starting off a first date to the sounds of a cheesy 80s love song was just awesome, even if it was a cheesy 80s love song that he secretly loved. He hoped his date wasn't the sentimental stage-five clinger type.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and smoothed the front of his flannel button-down. Time for smooth operator Han Solo mode. It had been a while since Dean had last gotten laid. In fact, the last time had been after he died and the mark had turned him into a demon. Did it count if you were technically dead? Dean shuddered, making up his mind to make some new memories tonight.

He looked toward the back of the bar, searching for the corner booth where Sammy had said his date would be waiting. He couldn't see her, but there was a beer on the table. Taking another deep breath, Dean walked across the room, dodging servers and weaving through tables. She must be sitting on the side facing away from the door. Dean leaned over the short wall between booths that blocked his date from view.

"Hello there," he said in his suavest voice, the one he knew made girls swoon. He noticed that his date had short, messy dark hair, and then a pair of deep blue, startled eyes were staring up at his. Anything else he had been about to say died in his throat. His jaw dropped and some small part of him that was still thinking clearly was telling him he probably looked like a complete idiot.

“Dean?”

He knew those eyes, that rumpled hair, that gravelly voice that caused butterflies to flutter around deep in his belly. But this didn't make any sense. Why was Cas in the booth where he was supposed to meet... oh.

Cas was his date. Sam had set him and Cas up on a blind date. Dean was gonna kill Sam for this.

“Dean, are you ok?”

He realized he was still standing frozen, eyes locked on Cas. Dean abruptly tore his eyes away and willed his feet to move. As he sat on the empty bench across from Cas, he made eye contact with a waitress and pointed to the beer in front of Cas meaningfully. He was going to need more alcohol to deal with all the awkwardness he could already feel descending.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically. “Uh, what are you doing here, Cas?”

“Waiting,” he replied with a small, entirely human shrug, as if that explained everything. “Although I didn't realize I was waiting for you.”

Dean laughed, trying to ignore the nervous churning in his gut. “Yeah, I wasn't expecting you to be waiting for me either. Did Sam put you up to this?”

“No.” Cas’ brows pulled together over his eyes and his head tilted as it always did when he was trying to figure something out. “Charlie brought me here, then left. She said that part of being human was going on dates, and that she had...” his eyebrows raised and a look of startled comprehension dawned on his face as he stared at Dean, “the perfect date for me.”

“Son of a bitch. Of course Sam and Charlie would team up on us.” Dean rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m gonna kill them both,” he muttered into his palms.

They were silent for several minutes, and Dean was starting to wonder where the waitress was with his beer. He removed his hands from his face to see Cas staring into his own beer like he wanted to crawl into its amber depths. Dean didn't blame him. He wanted to do the same.

“We don’t have to stay.” Cas’ voice was soft and quiet, and Dean had to strain to make out the words over the noise of the bar and that stupid song that was somehow still playing. Did someone set it to repeat? He watched Cas trace designs into the condensation on his glass. Disappointment was palpable, rolling across the table in waves. Dean’s stomach clenched.

“No.” The impulsive declaration startled them both, and Cas lifted his gaze to meet Dean’s. “We’re staying.”

Dean didn't know what he was getting into, but Cas’ blue eyes were shining again, and there was the ghost of a smile forming on his lips. It made Dean’s small Grinchy heart swell three sizes, and he didn't let himself think too hard about why that was. He just smiled back and decided to go with it.

“Besides,” he said, sitting back when the waitress finally returned and set a beer on the table in front of him, “I just got my drink, and you've barely touched yours.”

And then he winked.

He wasn't sure why he did it. His body seemed to be doing whatever the hell it wanted to without his permission tonight. Winking was something he would have done on any other date with a woman he was interested in. So what if Cas was a dude? Dean had been attracted to dudes before, he’d just never acted on it. And Cas was definitely an attractive dude. Especially when a smile lit up his eyes and his hair was all messy like he just rolled out of bed. Dean also had to admit he had often caught himself wondering what Cas would look like underneath the trench coat and several layers of clothing he always wore.

Maybe Sam and Charlie had seen something Dean just hadn't yet realized, or wanted to acknowledge, on his own.

Someone cleared their throat. Dean jumped, startled out of his thoughts, and noticed he had been staring into Cas’ eyes again. The waitress was still standing by their table, and he looked up at her with a sheepish grin.

“Can I get you guys anything to eat?” she asked, tucking a blond curl behind her ear and trying to suppress a grin of her own.

“Cheeseburgers,” Cas answered, “and french fries please. For both of us. Oh, and two slices of pie if you have any.”

Dean’s grin widened as he turned his attention back to Cas. It was a nice change being on a date with someone who wasn’t afraid to order more than just a salad. Cas flashed a shy smile back at him.

“Sure do,” the waitress drawled, “You want everything on those burgers?”

“No onions,” Cas answered, giving her a stern look.

“Alright, I’ll have that out in a jiffy.” The waitress turned to head back to the kitchen, and Cas looked back to Dean as she walked away. Dean wasn't even tempted to watch her go.

“Charlie said onions were a bad idea on a date. She wouldn't tell me why though. Do you know?”

Dean laughed out loud at the question and the way Cas’ head tilted again, brows knitted together. He had to admit, Cas was pretty damn cute when confused.

“Yeah, uh...” Dean hesitated, his cheeks burning at the thought of explaining why onions were a bad idea on a date. “I’ll explain later.”

+

A few hours, several beers, and a couple shots of liquid courage later, Cas and Dean stumbled out into the parking lot.

“Dude, you should've seen your face after that first shot of whiskey.” Dean laughed, gripping Cas’ shoulder to keep from doubling over, or falling over. “It was hilarious.”

Cas glared back at him. When Dean caught his breath and noticed the look, he quickly added, “And cute.” He slid his arm around Cas' shoulders and pulled him closer. “Really cute,” he said with a smile.

Cas’ gaze dropped to his feet, but Dean saw a smile replace the frown. A blush was creeping up his neck, and damn if that didn't make the former angel even cuter in Dean’s eyes.

“You know, I think I like you better as a human,” Dean said, still smiling as he steered them toward the Impala. He had parked it at the back of the lot. “You never blushed as an angel.”

“Yes, well I never had to contend with all these human feelings and their corresponding physiological reactions as an angel,” Cas replied in his dry manner.

Dean laughed again. He didn't think Cas would ever be able to talk like a normal human.

“It’s a good look on you,” Dean said, his voice soft and warm. The urge to press his lips to the blush on Cas’ skin hit him, and his heartbeat began to race. Moving closer, he kissed the edge of Cas’ jaw before he could change his mind or over-think things.

As he drew back, Cas turned to meet his eyes and slipped an arm around his waist. They smiled shyly at each other and walked the remaining distance to the Impala in comfortable silence.

Dean wondered if this was a dream. Being so close to Cas, being on a date and flirting with him, it felt surprisingly comfortable once he had given up trying to suppress everything. He couldn't believe he had ever been uncomfortable at the thought of admitting his feelings for his best friend. Cas made him happy. He had always made him feel that way, whether Dean had wanted to acknowledge it or not.

Their lives were almost always in danger, and the things they experienced on a daily basis would break a normal person. But Dean thought that maybe the reason he hadn't broken yet was because he had Cas. Sam was a comfort too, but Cas was Dean’s friend, his confidant... his shelter. When Dean was scared, in trouble, or just feeling like the weight of the entire universe was crushing him, his first instinct was always to pray to Cas. He couldn't always bring himself to pick up the phone and talk for real, but it helped just talking to Cas in his head, whether Cas was able to hear him or not. Cas was Dean’s beacon in stormy weather, always guiding him home no matter how far gone he was or how much shit there was between them.

Lost in his thoughts, Dean didn't notice they had reached the Impala until he was suddenly spun and roughly pushed up against her cold metal door. His first thought was that some monster with a grudge had found him. He relaxed when he registered the blue eyes burning into his and the strong but gentle hands fisting in the front of his shirt.

Then Cas’ mouth was on his. All rational thought skidded to a halt as Cas slotted their lips together and pinned Dean against the car. Cas kissed with a ferocity and wildness Dean hadn't expected. This was anything but the reserved, slightly aloof facade Cas normally presented.

Dean felt his body respond without hesitation, his heart pounding. A growl rumbled up from his chest as he parted his lips under Cas’, and Cas moaned into his open mouth. Dean brought one hand up to grasp Cas’ jaw, burying his his fingertips in dark, unruly hair. With his other arm snaked around Cas' back, he pressed their bodies even closer. Dean licked his way into Cas' mouth, tasting whiskey on his tongue, and thankfully, no onions.

That thought made him laugh, and he pulled away from Cas to catch his breath and lean their foreheads together.

“What’s so funny, Dean?” Cas practically growled, sending a shiver up Dean’s spine and causing funny things to happen deep in his belly.

“Onions,” Dean blurted out, before his brain could short circuit again and make him forget everything but the rumble of Cas’ voice and the feel of his lips.

Cas pulled back in confusion, leaving Dean feeling too cold. He grabbed at Cas’ trench coat and pulled him back into another kiss.

“This is why you don’t eat onions on a date,” he murmured against Cas’ lips between more kisses, “they make your breath stink, and then kissing is gross.”

“Oh,” Cas said, comprehension dawning across his features. “In that case, I’m never eating onions again.”


End file.
